


take me drunk i'm home

by paradoxicalconverse



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, I suppose, Mentions of homophobia, WynHaught brotp, this is basically a wynhaught fic with some soft wayhaught at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicalconverse/pseuds/paradoxicalconverse
Summary: Wynonna squints against the harsh fluorescent of the lights in the cell. The alcohol that had numbed her now wears off and her smarting lip is the first to let her know; she figures the bruises on her knuckles will probably be next. “I’m in here every other week; this can’t possibly be that big of news around here.”“Oh, it’s not.” The keys rap against the jail cells as if to replace the nails Wynonna shudders to think about why Nicole doesn't have. “What is surprising is why.”





	take me drunk i'm home

**Author's Note:**

> a little thing I had cookin up for a bit. I should hopefully have a. pretty good amount of one shots coming your way within the next few weeks, so I hope y'all are down for that

The drunk tank of the Purgatory Police Station was quickly becoming a second home for Wynonna; she seemed to find herself encased within in just as often as her own bedroom back at the Homestead. Even the company was typically on par, if only in a slightly skewed sense.

Nicole stands on the other end of the bars, frowning at her as she winds the keys through her fingers. Her eyes are not drilling nor angry; just sad in a curious sort of way. “Surprise seeing you in here again, Earp.”

“Is it?” Wynonna squints against the harsh fluorescent of the lights in the cell. The alcohol that had numbed her now wears off and her smarting lip is the first to let her know; she figures the bruises on her knuckles will probably be next. “I’m in here every other week; this can’t possibly be that big of news around here.”

“Oh, it’s not.” The keys rap against the jail cells as if to replace the nails Wynonna shudders to think about why Nicole doesn't have. “What _is_ surprising is why.”

Wynonna lets the sides of her mouth drop into a comical frown and shrugs. “Your typical bar fight, Red. I’ve been in here for one of those before. You gonna let me out of here or not?” Her hand swings at the keys Nicole clenches between white fingers. It’s evident that even though the alcohol might be fading off, it still hasn’t yet; the motion is enough to careen her body sideways to follow it and right herself with a grunt.

Nicole sighs and worries her lip between her teeth for a second. She knows Waverly’s waiting at home for her, knows that she promised she’d be home early for dinner, but that plan had been skewed since Nedley had dropped the police report on her desk fifteen minutes before her shift ended and thrown his frown into a cup of coffee before shaking his head.

“Cut the shit, Wynonna.” Her voice holds no softness that she usually reserves for a bloodied Wynonna after a bar fight when she’s especially put out. “You know why this time is different. You swung first; you never swing first.”

“Hmm.” Wynonna picks at something under her nail, seemingly unperturbed. “My undoing, really. A smart bitch never swings first.”

“ _Wynonna_ ,” Nicole warns.

“But.” Wynonna takes in a deep breath and shoots Nicole as dazzingling of a smile as she can manage. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“You never swing first,” Nicole repeats, shaking her head. She’s already fifteen past since she agreed to meet Waverly and the phone she purposely left on her desk is no doubt blowing up right now, but she can’t leave the cell. Not without some answers. “So what finally did it, huh? I’ve heard some douches say some pretty shitty things to you. What was the final thing that did it?”

All the light that once was in Wynonna’s eyes now flees and curls into the corner of the jail cell. Wynonna shakes her head. “Just some drunk old pricks, Red. How it is sometimes, you know?”

“I don’t,” Nicole says flatly.

“Why don’t you let me out of here and we’ll talk about it on the drive home, hey? I know Waverly had dinner planned for you guys tonight; I wouldn’t want to impede on that.”

Nicole stands steadfast. Her frown deepens.

“Look.” Wynonna sighs. “Some things are just better left unsaid, okay? He learned his lesson, I learned mine. What’s done is done; no point in digging up the past. He said some shitty things, I gave him a love tap with my fist, that’s all there is to it.” She fidgets uncomfortably against the jail cell.

“They said something about Waverly, didn’t they?” Nicole’s voice goes soft. “I’ll—who were they? Nedley didn’t bring them in because technically they were the victims, didn’t throw any punches themselves, but I—”

“It wasn’t about Waverly,” Wynonna interrupts. She groans and rubs her fingers over her temples, eyes squinted shut against the light. Her knuckles sting, she was right. “And you know what? I wasn’t even planning on swinging in the first place; I’ve heard some _shit_ before. I killed my own god damn father with a gun that won’t even shoot straight. You hear talk. But they…” She shakes her head and rubs at her temples again. “I like you a lot, Nicole, I do. More than just for my sister, but as a person, and that’s saying something, considering Waverly is just about the only god damn person I care about in this world anymore.”

Nicole blinks in surprise. The hand holding the keys hostage wavers, if only for a moment. “Wynonna?”

Wynonna’s voice softens low enough that Nicole can hardly hear it. “You’re not letting me out of here until I tell you, huh?” The keys jingle in answer. “You’re proud, you know? You have—you take so much pride, dedication, in taking care of yourself. And that’s why I think you like Waverly so much. She needs you, and you need to be needed.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Nicole says it, but she knows it’s not; not when it’s coming from Wynonna.

“And more than anything, you need to take care of yourself. You face all your own problems head first, dive right in, the whole enchilada. It’s like your trademark.”

“So…you punched a drunk guy in the face because I love your sister?”

Wynonna snorts. “If we leave it at that, will you let me out of here? You got the moral of it.”

Nicole’s frown tells her otherwise, enough that she coughs to clear away the awkward silence and wrings her hands together. If she was drunk earlier, she sure isn’t now. But it’s not her lip that’s maybe bleeding again or the scrapes on her knuckles, but it’s the gnawing in her heart instead. “Wynonna,” Nicole whispers softly. _Tell me._  

The sigh that Wynonna heaves is so deep Nicole can feel it in her bones. “It’s nothing you’ve never heard before, to be honest. Some guy calling you a dyke.” Her voice gets low and scraggly. “ _You seen Haught recently? Fuckin’ shame she’s a dyke, bet I coulda fucked the homo right outta her if she wasn’t such a stuck up bitch about not swingin’ the other way for a night._ ”

Nicole’s fingers clench around the keys, but her face stays in the same grimace it was in the moment the police report had slapped against her desk. “Oh,” Nicole says softly.

Wynonna shakes her head and forces herself to stare into the light overhead until her eyes water and her head pounds. “I just…I couldn’t let him sit there and _say_ that about you, you know? My sister—she’s the happiest she’s ever been when she’s with you, _you_ , and here was some guy sitting here thinking his dick was the cure for something that doesn’t need to be fixed. And I wouldn’t tell you because you’re so god damn noble. You always do the right thing; you fight your battles for yourself and you do it all while staying the good guy, no matter what. It’s like your fucking super power.”

Nicole’s silence spurs her on.

“I know you’re probably not thrilled with me right now; I punched some drunk guy in the face for bad mouthing you when you weren’t even there to defend yourself, but you know what? I’d do it again. In a heartbeat, if it meant I could knock out another one of his shit-kicking homophobic teeth out.”

Her heart beats harder in her chest as Nicole says nothing, just looks her up and down.

“So fine,” Wynonna says. Her hands slap against the cement bench beneath her. “So fine. I did a bad thing; fuck my shit up, Deputy Haught. Say what you’re going to say.”

Nicole takes a deep breath, looks her up and down one more time, then whispers out, “Thank you.”

The jail cell creaks as it opens, screaming from its mistreatment throughout the years; thousands of drunks that throw themselves against it in protest but none as brave as Wynonna Earp.

* * *

 

“You’re late.” Waverly frowns. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I am,” Nicole says, then surges forward and scoops Waverly against her chest, pulls her in close and buries her nose in her hair. “I’m home, with you.” She spins Waverly in a circle before letting her back down and beaming. “My home.”

“You seem…awfully cheerful.”

“Who wouldn’t be? I get to come home to you every day.” She wants to spin Waverly in another circle but retrains herself.

Waverly’s frown deepens. “You did something.” A gasp slips from between her lips. “You totaled my jeep, didn’t you?!”

“What? No! Baby, baby, nothing like that. I just.” She breathes out and puts her hands on Waverly’s arms. “I just…you mean a lot to me, Waverly Earp. Something at work happened today that made me realize—I don’t think about how lucky I am, with you. But I am, really. And I wish I didn’t sound like a complete and utter dork trying to tell you that.”

Waverly’s frown lessens, if only just. “Nicole Haught, are you trying to make me less mad at you for skipping dinner tonight?”

Nicole cringes. “No, no, but.” Another deep breath. “Everything in my life has lead me to you. Every hard thing I’ve ever done, it all put me right here. Home.”

“Well.” Waverly glances around the Homestead for a second before letting herself sink into Nicole. “The Homestead.”

“No, Waverly.” She presses her hand to Waverly’s head and pulls her in close, presses a kiss to the top of her head. “With you, I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make the author happy


End file.
